Time not to long ago
by SailorYue
Summary: Random drabble about the years where the Ineffable Husband's raised the wrong antichrist. Warlock gets a fever, his parents aren't home. So who else will take care of him?


Nanny Asteroth's duty as the nanny of the minister's son usually ended when the boy went to bed. But she took her duty as the antichrist's caretaker seriously. How else was she to make sure the boy would be ready to usher in the apocalypse? (Although to be fair, she was only interested in it in theory.) As she checked on the boy, something told her that something was wrong.

Warlock seemed to be tossing and turning in his bed, letting out small whimpers. Sometimes the boy had nightmares, and she had ushered the boy from them as, it wouldn't do well if the boy wasn't getting any rest. But this time, she knew something was wrong. He was warm. TOO warm. The nanny frowned. Although her internal body temperature ran lower, she knew damn well that the child's temperature was not that hot. She ran to the bathroom to grab the thermometer from the medicine cabinet and test the boy. It certainly was rather disconcerting that the boy made no notice of her. The temperature was well above a healthy level. Damn.

She ran her hand through her hair, which under normal circumstances was tied in a tight bun low on her neck. Tonight it was a loose pile of curls at her shoulders. She was at a loss. She may not know much, but human's temperature needed to be normal. The boy could die if she let it last, and sure if something WERE to happen to the boy, Armageddon won't happen. And if it was a normal human illness that took him out, well... it certainly wouldn't be HER fault now would it? But... she had been Nanny of the Antichrist for two and a half years now. She couldn't bare the thought of him dying when there was something she could do.

An idea came to her in just moments. And this may put the Arrangement at risk.

Brother Francis was certainly not expecting any visitors that evening; certainly not of the Nanny.

"Oh, to what do I hold the pleasure of such a late night visit, my lady Asteroth?" Francis's voice was very gravely, oversized teeth giving him just a slight lisp.

"The boy is sick. I need your help." She said rather shortly.

"Sick? What do you mean?"

"He has a fever, and," She hesitated. Why was she suddenly so nervous? Its not like she didn't know the portly gardener. "If we don't do something, he could very well die."

"How high?" Brother Francis became very serious, losing most of his joviality. He turned almost as white as his whiskers when she told him. "That is not a good thing. Take me to him."

The gardener placed a gentle hand on the boy's forehead, his own furrowing at the heat radiating.

"Was he acting any different at dinner?" He asked the slender woman on the other side of the bed.

"He's had a cough lately, but nothing different than a normal cold humans get." Her face was pinched, eyebrows dipped below her dark glasses.

"This isn't...?" He didn't want to complete the question. As a friend once said, walls have ears.

She shook her head. "It's far to early. Besides it wouldn't start as a fever. I would have been told that."

Francis looked down at the boy who seemed to be in great pain. It would be simple to just cure the boy, but their agreement was that no miracle magic would be used to sway the boy. Seeing the panic and fear on the other's face. He actually felt grateful about it.

"Where is the restroom? I wonder if there is anything in the medicine cabinet that could help with fevers." Asteroth directed him to the door to the boy's bathroom and he rummaged through to find some Tylenol. He crushed a couple of the pills and put them into a glass of water. "This should reduce the fever."

Asteroth gently raised the boy's head. "Warlock dear, it's Nanny Asteroth. Take this medicine for me? I don't have sugar to help this time, unfortunately."

The boy weakly swallowed the mixture, mostly dribbling though. She gently laid him down and Francis draped a cold washcloth over Warlock's forehead to help. The two employees of the Dowling family sat on opposite sides of the bed and watched. Waiting. Asteroth sat there, holding his hand, humming a familiar lullaby. Francis watched curiously at her behavior. How curious that she would care so deeply for the boy. He smiled slightly as a warmth filled his heart.

"What?" She whispered, wondering what the other's dopy smile. A cold yellow gaze hidden by shaded glasses.

"Tis nothing, my dear. Warlock seems to have settled down."

She nodded, testing the boy's temperature again. It was below a dangerous level. Satisfactory. They cleared up the mess they had made in caring for the boy, and left him to sleep.

"Listen..." Asteroth started.

"No need to thank me, my dear. T'was no trouble what so ever. Thank you for thinking of coming for my help."

The tall woman nodded. She truly was grateful, even though it wouldn't be good to thank her enemy would it. Still... She missed being able to take away pain, and certainly wouldn't have stopped the angel from outright healing the boy, arrangement be damned.

"Have a good night, gardener." She gave him a smile as he walked back to his tiny hut in the garden.

3 more years till Armageddon. Would they be able to make it?


End file.
